


Better the Devil you know

by Kalee60



Series: Kalee's AU Extravaganza [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Demon Bucky Barnes, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, POV Bucky Barnes, they should really just talk...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26441482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalee60/pseuds/Kalee60
Summary: Attending work conferences was never Bucky's idea of a 'good time' - especially when the rival company was Heaven and he happened to be a demon from Hell. Even more unbearable, he'd been tasked to present a seminar (against his will) - Bucky was more about doling out punishments, less about educating his peers.So of course, while Bucky is already down, Steve Rogers turns up, an angel Bucky had been trying desperately to forget for the last millenia… for an array of reasons.Bucky now finds himself in close quarters with his feathery nemesis, and after living multiple lifetimes, was maybe finally learning that there really was a fine line between hate and lust, and an even finer one tethering it all to love?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Kalee's AU Extravaganza [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858591
Comments: 108
Kudos: 445
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Stucky Bingo 2020





	Better the Devil you know

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all - are you sick of me yet? I mean this is fic 4 of 31... So hopefully not!
> 
> Well - if you're here with me again - welcome to my twist on the AU - Angels and Demons trope. Honestly I had so much fun with this, the idea just worked well with what I wanted these boys to go through and as usual I'd planned for a quick one-shot set at a work conference (because why not) and when I took a breath and looked up, I'd written this monstrosity - more words are good - right?
> 
> So enjoy this romp of questionable desires and being attracted to your literal opposite.
> 
> It also covers off two of my bingo squares:
> 
> Bucky Barnes Bingo: C4 - Wings  
> Stucky Bingo: B2 - Long Distance

“Why am I here again?” Bucky sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to get used to the feeling of hiding his wings in the ether, he’d not had to do it for such a long time and it felt odd.

“Because Coulson put your name forward,” Natasha responded, and they moved a few paces as the queue started to shorten, not quick enough though. Bucky was getting impatient, he just wanted to get signed in and head to the bar for a drink. Natasha kept throwing him glances that meant she was frustrated at his fidgeting. He didn’t pay heed to her, Bucky lived to annoy her.

“Yeah, well what in hell did I do to him to deserve having to not only attend, but to  _ present _ at this infernal conference?” 

Natasha gave him a look, “in one word - pineapples.”

Bucky grimaced, he was never going to live that down. It was an honest error, Bucky wasn’t to know the demon he’d charged with the torture was a rookie and hadn’t… attempted such a feat before, Coulson bearing the  _ brunt _ of the mistake. “Alright, fair enough. But I hate these things.”

“And yet you come to every single one.”

“I do not.” Bucky argued, receiving a perfectly raised brow in response, “I didn’t come in 220  _ or _ 1420, and I left early in 1720, and didn’t attend last century either…”

“Hmm, I wonder why...” she hummed as they finally made it to the front of the line, where she proceeded to sign herself in, reading the terms and conditions quickly before handing the pen to Bucky. “What’s this years’ theme again?”

Bucky ignored her small jab, as he wasn’t going to waste time thinking about the why’s of not attending last century. “Something contrite, I think from memory the parchment read, ‘Heaven and Hell, how to work better - together’. I say bring back ‘all creatures great and small’ where everyone brought their pets. Now that was a year to remember.”

“It was a slaughter,” Nat stated, and waited until he’d scanned the paperwork and signed in with a flourish, making her roll her eyes.

“Exactly,” Bucky said smugly. “It was at least interesting.”

Bucky didn’t hate these mixers, not at all, he actually quite liked catching up with the other half, see what the angels had been up to in the last century. Working in hell for almost all eternity had been amazing, he loved it, adored his job and what he gave back to the demon community, but it  _ was _ good to stretch his wings (sort of) and come to earth, the only real nuetral ground, catch up on new methods from other factions and go to a few seminars (one of which he was now having to present himself - stupid Coulson). 

“Hey isn’t that Steve?”

He whipped his head around, looking back over his shoulder where Natasha was staring, then scowled when he heard a roar of laughter from her.

“Still have your little unrequited crush I see.”

“It is  _ not _ a crush,” he hissed.

“Uh huh.”

“It’s not,” he reiterated, then huffed, “okay, maybe a few hundred years back, I  _ thought _ he looked nice, was alright - but that was before he stole my scythe.”

“Oh for the love of Satan, he did  _ not _ steal it. He won it in a poker match.”

“He cheated.”

“He’s an Angel.”

“And…”

“They don’t -”

“- don’t you dare say they don’t cheat, because you know they do. Angels are dicks.” Bucky finished.

Natasha stopped, mouth open ready to argue, but then shrugged, “well yeah, but this is Steve, Steve Rogers. Voted most likely to ascend fifteen hundred years in a row.”

Bucky grumbled, and grabbed his room key from the smiling attendant - human, he noted - not that he could turn them. All humans who worked at the resort, and other guests, were untouchable by either party for the duration of the conference, and after. Pity, his soul was vibrating with light. 

“Well he’d best not ascend with Beryl.”

“Really? You need to let your scythe go and that’s a freaking horrific name. What happened to Slasher, Death Dealer or even Blade of Glory?”

“Beryl just fit, and she’d been with me for most of my career, the grooves for my hands in either form was perfection.” Bucky sighed deeply, forlornly, now he was left with a hammer monstrosity he’d used in the dark ages. It was… rudimentary at best. “She was the best reaper scythe I’d ever had. Now reaper duty is just… boring.” 

Bucky hefted his duffel up on his back and they headed towards the stairs where the other attendees were congregating, wondering who he’d be rooming with. What  _ Angel _ he’d been saddled with to share for three days. Apparently that was their grand scheme with the ‘working together’ theme. Sharing space. Bucky thought it was just asking for trouble.

“So why bet her in the first place?”

“I thought I had a foolproof hand,” he replied succinctly.

“ _ You _ were cheating!”

Bucky hummed noncommittal, then turned and ran directly into a tall, solid mass of hardness. And of course the body he’d slammed into belonged to the one and only, Steve (blasphemy) Rogers, his blue eyes sparkling in recognition, blonde hair glinting under the lights like a halo, making Bucky snort.  _ Typical, mojo divine crap. _

“Hey, Buck, I wondered if you’d come this century.” Steve greeted warmly.

He didn’t answer, just eyed Steve up and down while Natasha let out a little snort and said ‘idiot’ under her breath, before walking off to greet Maria.

“Oh,  _ hello _ .” Bucky drawled derisively, eyeing Steve, whose grin had not moved an inch, even in the face of Bucky’s rudeness, “have we met before?”

“Bucky, really? We've known each other for millennia, we  _ always _ have this conversation at every conference. It’s getting old.” Steve countered with a put upon sigh; making Bucky perk up. A reaction, _ how fun! _

“Hmmmm you don't look familiar though? I’d remember those beady little eyes, I’m sure of it.” Bucky was not going to admit that Steve actually had quite nice eyes for an angel, the blue matching the sky wonderfully. Bucky hated the sky, he prefered being underground. Mostly.

“You’re saying you don't remember the face you punched when I disagreed that cats were inherently evil?”

Bucky clicked his fingers a few times, “oh that's right, Simon?”

“Steve.” The angel replied flatly.

Bucky grinned widely, “I still stand by that. Cats  _ are _ evil by nature, by their very definition.” 

Shrugging, he watched with a quickening heartbeat at the way Steve tried to hide his annoyance at Bucky’s words, glad he’d brought up the cat conversation and not  _ other _ things. Bucky loved nothing more than getting a rise from Rogers’, and to be fair it was probably the main reason he came to these things. Bucky was not going to look too hard at the why of that statement.

“Oh for the love of…” Steve trailed off, his voice an octave higher, Bucky was already getting to him and it had only been a handful of minutes.

“God?” he finished.

“Huh, you can say that now?”

“I'm a higher level demon, Steve, not an atheist.”

The smile that broke out on Steve’s face was not at all appealing, well, maybe a little bit. Bucky wasn’t blind, and could abjectly agree that Steve Rogers was probably the best looking angel in existence, but he was still a dick, a dick who'd stolen Beryl.

“Congrats, when did you get the promotion?”

And Steve was not supposed to be all nice and supportive of his career progression, it was frustrating, but he  _ was _ an angel and that was technically their M.O. Lesser demons, of which Bucky had been most of his life, were important in hell, but had limited clout, and even saying the name God could leave you with a lengthy visit to the medic bay receiving treatment for holy-fire burns. Bursting into flames at saying a celestial beings’ true name, was not fun. Bucky had done it a few too many times. He had been a temperamental youth.

“About 300 years ago, give or take a couple of months.” 

Steve’s face fell, and Bucky wondered if the hurt that crossed it was because Bucky hadn’t told him of his status change the last few times they’d seen each other. But why would the angel care if he’d finally passed his internship with Rumlow? Especially as they were the worst thousand years of his life. He blocked out a lot of it, although he had to admit Brock’s methods of torture, were… brutal, and had their place, but Bucky preferred subtle. He didn’t want to be feared in hell, it wasn’t his goal to be in management. He was just competitive.

“Oh, right, well that’s great news anyway, belated congratulations then.” Steve finally murmured, and looked over Bucky’s shoulder at something behind him. He resisted the urge to glance back.

And this was why he didn’t like spending too much time with the other side, they somehow always made Bucky feel like a heel, like he should be better than he was. That, to be fair, was what angels were supposed to do, to make you question your decisions and then make better ones. Bucky was a demon first, and he didn’t like thinking about how to change his ways just to accommodate making Steve feel better - sorry -  _ angels _ feel better.

Demons were not inherently evil (unlike cats), it was a choice, just as Brock was the meanest, most sadistic bastard in hells’ hallways, Bucky was actually well liked, separated his job and his personal life, it was easy to do so, and he thought he did it well. That was until Steve gave him large blue pleading eyes, pouting plush lips and a reason to question whether he should finally take a position on earth to be closer to him.

_ Whoa _ , where had that thought come from? Bucky did  _ not _ want to work on earth, nor be closer to Steve still positioned in Heaven. Just because they'd shared one drunken kiss at a conference two hundred years ago, didn’t mean that Bucky was carrying a torch around for Steve. He also hadn't attended the last conference,  _ not _ because he was dodging the angel, but because he'd had a sniffle. No, he… just really needed that drink now. Preferably neat, and the full bottle left in front of him.

“All delegates for the H&H conference, please make your way to the ballroom for introductions and schedules.” The voice that came over the loudspeaker was tinny and Bucky winced. Looked like that drink would have to wait.

“You’re presenting this weekend right?” Steve asked and Bucky startled, how did he know?

“Uh… yeah…” he replied, drawing it out.

“So am I.”

“Good for you,” Bucky retorted and started to walk towards the ballroom, hoping the bar was on the way. He idly wondered for a second why Steve had asked, and damn it, he was  _ not _ curious as to what Steve would be talking about. Bucky wasn’t going to ask, not wanting to look too interested. Steve didn’t stay behind where he’d left him though, he fell into step next to Bucky. 

Bucky scowled.

“Oh, I also wanted to update you that Beryl looks great in my front garden, the birds love her.”

“The garden? What the Fu-”

“Language, Buck.” Steve interrupted and walked off, having the audacity to wink at Bucky as he turned, to  _ wink _ at him as he caught up with a cherub whose eyes had landed on Natasha, as she’d finally made her way back to Bucky. The dirty blonde angel did not look away from her for a second. Usually he’d find the glazed over look of true love on the cherub’s face, complete with small band aid over the bridge of his nose amusing. Would be giving Natasha so much shit. But, instead, he was furious. Beryl was not a fucking garden ornament.

“You’re a dick.” Bucky called out and got hushed by an attendant.

Steve only turned around and flashed him the biggest, toothiest grin he’d ever seen on anyone's ridiculous face. Scowling (again), that to be fair Bucky knew was a great look on him, he followed Steve’s swaying hips, clad in obscenely tight pants, across the room to where Fury and Pierce stood ready to greet everyone. The bar did not appear on the way.  _ Fuck. _

If Bucky didn’t see Steve Rogers again for the rest of the weekend it would be too soon. 

  
  
  


The announcements were standard, Fury and Pierce talked about collaborations with each faction, the dinners, the seminars, when they’d have free time, and finally finished on the inaugural games day. And  _ that’s _ why Bucky came to these stupid conferences; everyone was split into teams of six, three demons and three angels, and had to compete for the cup and bragging rights. This year it seemed the cup was an old bowling trophy from the 50s someone had pawned and  _ no-one _ ever bragged. But it didn’t stop Bucky being the most competitive son of a bitch out there. Especially when pitted against Steve. He couldn’t wait to take him down a cloud or two.

“The cherub has a crush,” Bucky stage whispered to Natasha once the formalities were over, loud enough that a few heads turned their way. The tall dirty blonde’s eyes hardly left Natasha the entire speech, clearly mesmerised.

“Shut it,” Natasha sniped back, but he saw the way she flicked her hair as they walked towards Steve and the lovestruck angel. For Satan’s sake, the cherub even possessed a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, but it was the way Natasha sashayed past them that intrigued Bucky more than anything. He ignored Steve’s small attempt at trying to get his attention and turned to Nat instead.

“You like him!” He exclaimed with glee.

“I do not.”

“Yes you do, you’re preening like a cat, vying for attention but remaining aloof, making him come to you.”

Natasha gave him a withering look, and usually he’d be cowed, but not today, not when he had something so delicious on her. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on, he’s a damn cherub, it’s fucking adorable. The right hand of the Soul Keeper lusting after an angel, and one who deals in true love no less.”

Bucky was on his back faster than he could say, ‘Beelzebub’ Natasha straddling him, knife cutting into the skin of his neck, that were he human, would have decapitated him, but Bucky had thick skin, literally.

“Enough, Barnes.” She threatened, the hiss between her teeth taking on a decidedly serpent-like tone, “else I’ll tell Rogers what you really said about his lips, and for exactly how long you’d wanted to kiss them prior to that.”

Bucky baulked, how the hell? Her throaty laugh left chills up his spine. Of course she knew, she knew everything. He should have never made friends with her in the first two hundred years of his existence.

“Fine,” he spat, but he’d definitely be bringing up the cherub in any situation he could, without repercussion - hopefully. And if she did make good on her threat, so what? What’s the worst that could happen by telling Steve he had the softest lips that Bucky had ever kissed in his entire life? Surely there were softer? Bucky just hadn’t tried  _ everyone’s _ mouths over his life span of thousands of years. Steve probably didn’t even remember their quick, but passionate kiss. They’d been drunk on celestial wine after all. It was heady stuff, messed with your senses.

Natasha let him up and Bucky wiped the back of his hand over his neck, the wound already healed, and the small line of blood had caked, flaking on his skin. “Gross, Nat.”

“It’s blood, it’s what you deal in.”

“Yeah, but not mine.”

He thought it amusing that she reacted so viscerally to the thought of dating a cherub; considering she’d previously dated one of God’s personal guards - Bruce, ending not because he lived in heaven, but because they didn’t fit and said it felt forced in the end. There were absolutely no rules about cross dating, the only thing to take into consideration was that hell and heavens’ schedules never lined up, it was almost impossible to find time to see each other. It was much easier if one partner were based on earth, or in the perfect world, both partners. There were many happy and fulfilling relationships that balanced good and bad, but Bucky had never been someone who wanted to explore that type of bond, let alone move to earth. 

The image of Steve’s face loomed in his mind and he shut it down immediately, Bucky had never dated an angel and was not looking to start.

“What room are you?” Nat asked, looking down at her key, flashing him the number, she was 1234.

“Oh, 1406. Two floors up from you.”

They took the elevator up together, Natasha more interested in her nails than speaking to Bucky, and he nudged her as they got to floor twelve, she grinned back and he knew they were fine. The doors opened to find Maria alighting from the second elevator, and giving her a small wave before they closed again, the two girls started to talk excitedly, realising they were rooming. Bucky liked Maria, for an angel in the Archangel program she was no nonsense, had great spear technique, lived and breathed training, and had drunk Bucky under the table on three memorable occasions (the rest he didn’t remember).

Bucky finally arrived at his floor and made his way to the door, the key card flashing red three times, just enough to get his anger stirred before it finally went green; and pushing, he let himself in.

It was a standard room, two large queen beds next to each other, a large bathroom with plenty of room for wings if need be, and a balcony that looked out over the ocean. 

Impressed he’d managed to snaffle a room with a view, he picked the bed closest to the window and opened the balcony door, inhaling the salty brine. Hell had a few oceans, yet nothing like earth's. Bucky wasn’t about to go and holiday by the Ocean of Despair, the wails and mournful cries not his idea of relaxing. Well, not all the time.

He really did enjoy the fresh air and the tang on his tongue, and it wasn’t like Bucky was sick of living in hell, but it was nice to get out and go somewhere different.

Hearing the door click open behind him, Bucky attempted to put on one of his more friendly faces, that was still quite arresting, and spun around, the greeting dying in his throat.

_ Oh fuck no. _

“Oh fuck no,” Bucky repeated out loud and saw Steve startle, surprised someone was in the room no doubt, and his blue gaze looked up shocked to have an irate demon swearing at him.

“What?” Steve asked innocently when he’d gathered his thoughts, the smallest tilt to his mouth began to appear. What did he have to smile about? This was  _ not _ amusing. 

“I’m not sharing with you.”

“And why not?” Steve retaliated, as he put his bag on the bed closest to the door, his smile only widening. How could somebody’s teeth be so damn white?

“Because you stole Beryl.” It was the only thing Bucky could come up with other than he was worried he might actually start to _want_ Steve in the biblical sense if they slept less than two yards away from each other. _Shit_ , who was he kidding, of course he did, he only had to look at the muscles and that damn jawline, but it was _not_ going to happen. Bucky had a rep to protect.

“Really?” Steve exclaimed, sounding tired as he said it, rubbing a hand slowly over his face.

“Plus, I don’t like you.” Bucky added petulantly.

Steve’s hands dropped and he looked at Bucky, a frown creasing his features and Bucky felt a small amount of pride at being the cause, but then something passed behind Steve’s summer infused eyes that he couldn’t name and a pit of discontent landed in Bucky’s gut. No amount of swallowing would dislodge it.

“Look, I honestly thought we’d… okay, fine, you don’t  _ like  _ me, but I’m not going down to the desk to mess everything they’ve organised up, just because you cheated in cards and then lost her fair and square.”

Bucky minced over Steve’s words a second, noting that at least he’d used the correct honorific for Beryl, and for some reason that small thing made him exhale, “fine, you stay on your side of the room and I’ll stay on mine.”

Steve took in a deep breath as if to say something, then thought better of it and started to unpack. Bucky watched for a moment and couldn’t help himself.

“How many shirts did you bring? You know it’s only three days right?” 

Steve had about ten shirts piled up in his bag in varying colours. Bucky thought he  _ may _ have thrown a second threadbare t-shirt into his own bag, if not, he was wearing the one on his back all weekend. He should check.

“What of it?” Steve asked, his voice on the edge of exasperation. Rooming with him was suddenly a fantastic twist of fate. If Bucky believed in such things.

“It’s just a lot for three days, is all.”

“Not really sure how it’s your business,” Steve started, voice harsh, then he sighed, “but sometimes they get ruined when doing extraneous activities. Which this weekend is sure to be full of.”

Bucky swallowed hard, an image popped into his mind of Steve above him naked, sliding into him deeply, sweaty, whispering what a good demon he was in his ear, and Bucky flinched. No, no, no, he’d already battled these fantasies for a few hundred years now, he didn’t need to suffer through them, not again - it had taken him long enough to get over his…  _ infatuation _ last time.

“Sometimes my wings... just pop.” Steve continued, unaware of Bucky’s inner angel panic.

“Just pop,” he echoed, glad to speak of something  _ not _ sexy. Popping wasn’t - was it? Okay, maybe a little.

“Yeah, I mean when I get really agitated or excit…” Steve coughed, never finishing the obvious word, his face bursting into colour and Bucky’s eyes widened in horror. 

No, damn it _.  _ It was  _ not _ horror. He needed that stiff drink  _ and _ a new roommate, rooming ceased to be fun when Bucky realised his dick potentially had more than a passing fancy for the blonde. How had the angel muddled him so thoroughly in two conversations? Bucky pushed away that it was years of conversations that had put him in that position, and wondered if Nat would swap rooms.

“So you lack self control?” Bucky choked out, realising how rude that was. Although he  _ was _ a demon, so being an asshole was expected, he usually wasn’t this antagonising though. There was something about Steve that brought it out of him. That, and the fact he was now trying to repress any form of attraction he  _ might _ be feeling for the angel.

“You know what? How about you unpack your own stuff and leave me alone for a minute.”

Steve may as well have offered him an engraved invitation to keep annoying him, telling Bucky to cease anything was akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull. He had laserlike focus and so instead of unpacking his two pairs of underwear and one shirt (hopefully), he sauntered over and sat on the edge of the angel’s bed and watched him unpack intently, commenting on everything he could see.

“What happened to your side of the room and mine?” Steve asked archly and Bucky just smirked.

“I’m a demon, we lie.”

Steve sighed heavily, making a small sign with his hands, then looked up to the air as if to pray for strength, which was probably exactly what he was doing, and ignored Bucky’s questions and snide remarks.

Maybe sharing with Steve wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  
  


The welcoming dinner went about as well as expected. There was only one maiming, though the horn grew back almost immediately and the amount of alcohol (laced with celestial spirit) flowed freely and Bucky imbued potentially a little too much. 

The reasons for his indulgence were not that surprising if he thought about it. First up, he was actually nervous about his seminar the next morning; The Subtle Art Of Rearing Hellhounds. Speaking about his passion before his peers felt… strange and oddly intimate. He didn't generally give a lot of himself away, and this particular skill he possessed was close to his heart. Secondly, he was still wrestling with the idea he'd be sharing a confined space with Steve Rogers, an angel he’d been trying to forget for centuries. And every time he thought on what the darkness of their room might bring, the images that popped into his mind needed to be quelled immediately, he had to curb his… whatever it was towards the angel, because Bucky was  _ not _ looking for an entanglement.

But a weekend tryst…? 

A dicking down by a dick of an angel?

No, definitely not.

Grumbling, and giving Natasha a look when she’d pinched the skin on the back of his arm, that in anyone’s book was an act of war, Bucky tried to keep his eyes on the entertainment. They had a keynote speaker from Purgatory, and they were actually very compelling, but his eyes kept drifting. To one particular side of the room.

Even though there were over three hundred attendees, Bucky’s eyes kept sliding six tables across, where he could see the side profile of Steve fucking Rogers. He was grinning at something Maria had leant over and whispered, and Bucky did not burn to know what had made him grab his chest and laugh silently for a solid minute. It was none of his business... what the  _ hell _ had she said? That she thought the new beard Steve had grown in the last hundred years looked stupid? It unfortunately did not. It looked soft and touchable.

“What?” he snapped when Natasha dug her nails into his arm.

“Your heart eyes are making me sick, just fuck him, get it out of your system so I don’t have to put up with another fifteen hundred years of you pining.”

“It's five hundred tops, and…  _ fuck _ .”

Natasha had caught him out again and he was pissed. He didn't speak to her for the remainder of the speeches and once dinner was finished, instead of hanging around to catch up with his peers and angels he'd not seen for an age, he slunk back to his room, fully intending to get a handle on his gross misjudgment on what seeing Steve had done to him. Again.

Bucky wasn't a squishy, soft being who dreamed of happily ever after, even though demons were not exempt from living a full enriching happy life. But Bucky just hadn't met anyone who he'd want to be entangled for eternity with. And although Steve stirred up all sorts of _ unnatural _ feelings, he wondered idly if Natasha was on to something. Should he proposition Steve, fuck him, get it out of his system so he could move on with his forever, unhindered with a stupid blip in his brain for an angel built like a fantasy come to life? There  _ had  _ to be a demon equivalent of Steve. Bucky just hadn't come across him yet.

The water in their shower didn't burn hot enough, he wanted to singe the skin from his human form, a form he lived in for the majority of the time. His demon form was brought out for work purposes only, but his wings - they were different. Bucky _ never _ showed anyone his wings without having to. He looked around and double checked Steve hadn't come back by yelling out 'hello' and that the bathroom  _ was _ big enough; and once assured, let them unfurl from the ether.

The  _ thwomp _ as they appeared, relaxing, familiar, and he stretched, the dark feathers aligning, straining and slightly itchy from being hidden.

Bucky caught his reflection in the mirror, and although he saw his wings on a regular basis, sometimes he caught a glimpse under certain conditions and lighting and it made him falter, suck in a breath. He couldn't hazard a guess at the number of newer angels who assumed all demons had leathery bat-like wings, and sure, many did. But the older demons, the ones from the dawn of time and their descendants had wings of feathers, not unlike angels, actually almost exactly  _ like _ angels. The main difference between the two races was that demon colourings ran darker. Bucky's own wings were hued in a deep gunmetal grey with flecks of red, one patch even had the appearance of a star, he liked that section the best. It gave them character.

He tended his wings as best he could, brushing and loosening particles that made him itch, and finally willed them back away and crawled into bed wearing boxer briefs, having not even thought to bring anything else to sleep in.

He’d only just closed his eyes when he heard the beep of the keycard.  _ Rogers. _

Bucky pretended to be asleep, keeping his breathing steady as he lay on his back, then cracking an eye he saw Steve slide in the door quietly. And of course he’d be considerate and as soon as he saw Bucky was in bed, switched the bathroom light on, not the main room; the light glow that escaped, enough to see by, but not enough to ‘wake’ Bucky. If Bucky had come in last, he wouldn’t have given a second thought to turn on the overhead light, no doubt waking Steve in the process, which would have been his intent.

“Bucky?” Steve husked quietly across the space, and Bucky tried hard not to move at the sound of his name coming from Steve’s throat in a whisper, familiar like.

The angel moved towards him, and Bucky made a snore like snort, and curled onto his side so he could continue to watch Steve through the eye closest to the mattress, a very nice, soft mattress, bouncy yet firm, perfect for being fucked into. And he shouldn’t have let his mind wander, not when Steve was near enough to reach out and touch.

_ Hang on _ .

Steve was close enough to touch. When did he manage to sneak up on Bucky? Obviously while he was having an existential crisis about the mattress.

But the angel stopped short, and there was a second that Bucky thought Steve might shake him awake, but instead he sat heavily on the other bed, a mere few feet away and watched Bucky. Steve rested his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing his eyes before placing elbows to knees, palm cupping his chin and he watched, stared, breathing in and out, and it took all the willpower Bucky possessed not to say anything, to acknowledge the strange happening.

The long heavy forlorn sigh Steve let out as he stood, made Bucky open his eyes then sit up, resting on his elbows - ready to what? Talk about their feelings? Bucky was being utterly ridiculous and acting out of character, but before he could say something cutting, he saw that Steve's back was already turned and he was heading for the bathroom, not noticing that Bucky was awake. Yet Bucky’s eyes would have been drawn to him immediately anyway - as Steve’s wings had unfurled, on full display.

Bucky swore his gasp was too loud in the quiet, but Steve clearly hadn't heard as he disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut, the light extinguished.

But the sight of Steve’s wings was burned in Bucky’s retinas, his inner eye, his memory, scorched for eternity. The feathers were of a silver shade he’d not seen before from heaven  _ or _ on earth, the smaller ones that lined underneath were a snow white, plush, pure and Bucky just wanted to grab handfuls of them and tug Steve down, have their wings and bodies entwined.

He jumped out of bed, pulled his jeans and a t-shirt on in the dark and fled the room. Bucky couldn’t be there when Steve came back out, uncertain how and why this longing had appeared, and why for the first time in his long life, he couldn’t control himself.

It was only as Bucky ordered his bourbon neat at the bar downstairs, eyes glassy with half sleep that he looked down and saw he wasn’t wearing his only other poor excuse for a shirt. It was one of Steve’s - and it smelt delicious.

_ Well fuck. _

  
  
  
  


Demons didn’t need a lot of sleep, usually. But when on earth and in their human forms, if they wanted to not fall down in exhaustion, generally they should consume food and rest for the most part. And so far Bucky had collectively slept about three minutes of the previous night. With the sensation of sand sticking under his eyelids, he slammed down another coffee from the breakfast bar, ate some waffles and bacon with enough syrup to make Natasha and Maria flinch, then he was off to prepare for his seminar. 

Bucky ensured he was up before Steve, it was easy enough, he was awake anyway; finding himself watching the early morning light as the sun's rays crept across the room, until Steve's blonde features glowed in the soft brightening hue. Bucky got up and escaped when he realised his fingers twitched with the need to trace those damn eyelashes that fluttered in sleep. 

Denial and repression were Bucky's friends that morning, along with a large splash of hazelnut in his coffee.

As he set himself up in the auditorium, making sure all his visual cues were organised and the clicker would actually change the slides when he wanted, a crawl of nerves settled under his skin. Bucky wasn't scared of public speaking, not at all, he  _ loved  _ being the centre of attention, commanding a room, having everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. But, this was more than just selling some poor John a bad deal, it was his passion, where he spent most of his days working. The hellhound compound was Bucky's sanctuary, his space away from everyone else, and here he was, about to tell a room full of angels and demons his secrets. Well... not  _ all _ of them.

The space filled up quickly, and soon he settled the buzz of conversation by greeting everyone, speaking in a voice loud, clear and sure. He dropped a few jokes, enjoying the muffled laughter, then launched into his presentation.

About halfway through, as he answered a question about giving the hounds belly-rubs, and if not timed correctly could involve losing half an arm before he grew it back - something he was intimately aware of - a flash of gold and a familiar deep chuckle stole his attention.

_ Steve _ .

There was a moment where Bucky searched for, then locked eyes with the angel and lost his train of thought. Blue dazzled across the room, a small, warm encouraging smile was directed at him and Bucky dropped his eyes and turned his back to the crowd, needing a bare second to mask his surprise and pull himself together. He did  _ not _ want Steve thinking he was affected by him in any way. Even though he was realising quite quickly that he was.

"Fuck."

The surprised cough from his demon aide, along with the sharp look, made Bucky register he'd said that out loud, directly into the microphone.

"Err, fucking. So let's move on to the mating rituals of hellhounds," Bucky attempted to cover his lapse, and not very well it seemed. Looking out at the sea of rapt faces staring at him, he ignored Steve's knowing grin from the back row. The angel was clearly screwing with him, else he really wanted to hear how hellhounds got it on. It was, actually, not very pretty.

By the end of his presentation, Bucky had managed to charm the crowd; talking was his specialty and he could generally sweet-talk anyone into anything, he even managed to ignore one particular corner of the room for the remainder of the hour. And as Bucky answered questions afterwards to a small group of enthusiastic angels and demons, he felt vindicated, he’d done well, he’d had a level of engagement not seen at previous seminars he’d attended, and believed he’d made the correct choice for topics.

Finally everyone cleared out, and he was pulling together all of his notes and making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, when he turned to see Steve standing right there. Right before him. As if waiting for him specifically. The blue of his eyes no less muted inside under lights, and they softened as a smile transformed Steve’s face from gorgeous to utterly stunning. Bucky narrowed his eyes in return, why on Satan’s red underground was he reacting so physically?

“Well, that was definitely a seminar unlike any I’ve been to.”

“Why, because it was actually interesting and not about wing grooming?” Bucky retorted, pulling the strap of his bag up high on his shoulder and started past Steve.

The huff of laughter, unexpected, and Bucky felt his steps falter, but then of course Steve was right next to him, walking the same pace. He was not unlike one of Bucky’s hellhounds, seeking attention and he wondered if Steve had the capacity to bite  _ his _ arm off. Maybe restraining it so it was useless was more his style - and there would be no way that an angel, one of the Lord’s pride and joy, would be into holding Bucky down and commanding him to do things. Wicked things. But what a fantasy though. Maybe he could jerk off while Steve held his presentation and he had the room to himself?

“Well there is that,” Steve said and Bucky took a second to catch up on what they were talking about, too busy in his head thinking about coming all over the shower wall. “But also the way you work the room, you have a gift.”

“I’m a demon,” he said flatly, “it’s kind of my thing.”

Steve chuckled again, and Bucky was startled to realise that Steve had placed a hand gently on his forearm and squeezed once before letting go. Bucky for some reason couldn’t take his eyes off the spot. It didn’t burn, it wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was aware of it.

“No, I mean, yes, you have that mesmerizing charisma, but that’s all you, not your designation. You made  _ me _ want to raise hellhounds and I have a feeling my boss might have something to say about that.”

Bucky allowed himself to look up at Steve as they walked out the room, noticing the sheen of colour high on his cheeks, making him look even more appealing. The words he’d spoken crawling under Bucky’s skin to settle there, to take root. Steve thought he was charismatic, appealing even. Should Bucky seek to get closer to him? Make a move of the carnal nature? Was this the cue he’d been waiting for? Is this how angels flirted?

_ Don’t be ridiculous,  _ he told himself, if anything Bucky needed some space, physical space from Steve. 

“So do you think you’ll make it to my presentation?” Steve asked with a hint of hope in his voice.

“Probably not.”

“Oh, right.” Steve paused a second and sighed. “Well I’d best get ready. I’ll… see you at dinner tonight, or later in the room?”

Bucky waved over his head as he walked off, not answering, knowing he’d just acted like the biggest prick in the history of pricks (and he knew, he’d met almost all of them) and went to drop his stuff off at the room.

When he collapsed on his bed, relieved his presentation was done, he spied the conference handbook and grabbed it, opening to that day’s activities. Steve’s presentation was starting in fifteen minutes.

Bucky shucked his shoes, undid his pants and got ready for the most epic jerk off, but even as his hand slid into his underwear, he realised he couldn’t go through with it. 

“Fucking angel and his fucking too blue eyes and hopeful fucking voice.” Bucky got up, put his shoes back on and raced down to the venue.

He caught up with Natasha, who was heading in and she eyed him contemplatively, then when they found a seat, the room almost as packed as Bucky’s he noted, she sat right next to the cherub. Hoo boy, this was going to be brilliant.

Leaning across Natasha, he held out his hand and put on his most devilishly sexy smirk, “why hello there, I’m Bucky, and you are?”

The cherub, who was watching Nat so closely out the corner of his eye, dropped the bag of peanuts he was holding at Bucky’s sneak attack, and looked forlornly at the ground as they scattered, “Aw, peanuts… no.”

Bucky heard Natasha’s heavy sigh, knowing it was directed at him, but the cherub looked up, mortified - clearly thinking the reaction was for him.

“This here is Natasha, she enjoys: maiming, flaying, torture, clamps, orgy’s and tall winged men who can hunt with arrows.”

He received a sharp slap to his thigh, bleeding as Nat's talon like nails dug in. It was worth it though, to watch the wide blue eyes of the angel train in on them, peanuts long forgotten.

“Clint.”

“What did you just call me?” Natasha snarled and Bucky snorted, the entire situation better than when there was a mix-up in 1300 and hell got an influx of blood thirsty rabbits instead of human souls.

“Oh my boss... my name is Clint… Clint Barton, and you’re Natasha, the right hand of the Soul Keeper, winner of the catastrophe of the century competition seven hundred years in a row and the muse of countless artists and creators for millenia.”

“And like I said, I’m Bucky.” He interjected just to be an ass.

Two sets of eyes, one blue and one green landed on him, it was like fire and ice and he held up his hands placating and sat back, shit-eating grin on his face. As Clint and Natasha conversed, or more like Natasha demanded answers and Clint squeaked out replies, Bucky read the information sheet they had been given on arrival, having no idea  _ what _ Steve was talking about. Maybe he was doing the wing grooming thing?

But he was surprised when he read the cover, and even more so when Steve stepped up to the dais, wearing what looked like battle armour. It hit Bucky in the gut like a sledgehammer. Steve was breathtaking, a true warrior of God, and Bucky knew in that instant he’d regret it for the rest of his days if he missed his chance to get naked and sweaty with him at least once.

“Welcome all. Today I’m going to be demonstrating how to turn your harp into a divine weapon.”

Bucky mesmerised from the moment Steve began to speak, then even more so when he proceeded to show everyone how to wrangle the hard object into a weapon. The dexterity in his fingers, the strength in his forearms as he twisted and moulded the frame into something usable, something that could conceivably win a battle, not just lure you in with it’s song. Bucky had never liked harps, but there was something extremely alluring about them now. 

And watching Steve as he expertly formed an object of warfare, was the sexiest thing Bucky had ever witnessed in his life.

“Of course you can modify this if you use a pitchfork or even a  _ scythe _ .” Steve’s eyes landed directly on Bucky, and he startled at the fact Steve honed in on him specifically without having to search for him in the crowd. He’d told Steve he wasn’t coming, how did he even know Bucky was sitting there? A smirk pulled Steve’s lip up and Bucky was gone. Demons did not turn into puddles of raw want on the floor, but Bucky was doing a damn good impression of one. It was no longer a question of  _ if _ he should proposition Steve, but  _ when _ .

“Alright, I need a volunteer,” Steve asked while Bucky experienced a small crisis of nerves at the possibility of rejection - from an angel of all beings. “Bucky Barnes, come on up.”

It was only then that he realised Natasha had yanked his arm up in the air, holding it aloft, high, and he turned to her with a look that he hoped shook her in her boots. It did not.

“Traitor,” Bucky hissed as he made his way up to the front, applause following him while Steve’s megawatt grin didn’t falter and eyes tracked his path. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to walk towards that smile genuinely, if they were meeting for a coffee, a date even… no, no dates, just fucking. Bucky was  _ not _ dating an angel.

“Alright, I’m going to show you how to disarm someone using your new weapon.” Steve spoke to the gathering, then leant in to whisper directly into Bucky’s ear, “don’t worry, I won’t really hurt you.”

“Pity,” Bucky husked back under his breath, knowing it tickled across the skin of Steve’s cheek. “I don’t mind a bit of pain, if it’s administered… correctly.”

He watched in pure joy as Steve tripped over his words, before chuckling and apologising to the crowd, and then before Bucky could count the nine circles of hell, he was flat on his back, a wicked looking harp pressed to his jugular.

Bucky had spent the better part of his life resistant to any attacks, physical and mental and the fact that Steve managed to drop him to the floor instantly like no one ever before, had Bucky gasping like a novice in his first fight. It was titillating and Bucky wanted more.

“Again,” he rasped, more turned on than he’d ever been before. 

Steve’s eyes widened, breath coming in quicker between his teeth as he stared down at Bucky, gazes holding until Bucky quirked a brow in challenge. Steve beamed, then got up,  _ not _ helping Bucky to his feet. Somehow that was even hotter.

The next three attacks Bucky held his own, but Steve always overpowered him, and he hoped like hell it wasn’t too obvious how hard his dick was. Because he was _\- rock_ _hard_ at the angel handling he was getting. Steve throwing him across the floor, straddling him, holding him down to prove a point, was doing it for him, in a big way. And the fact Bucky was actually trying to fight back, made it even more rousing, enthralling, he wanted Steve to eat him up and spit him out afterwards.

Sprawled on his stomach, Steve’s knee in his back, holding his arms in place, while the harp’s sharp edge once again kissed the skin of his neck and made him groan low and deep. It wasn’t a sound that could be mistaken for anything other than what it was, raw unfettered desire. Bucky wanted Steve to take him, at this point he was ready for it to happen right there in front of everyone.

“I’ve wanted you in this position for more years than I can count,” Steve whispered, voice sliding into his ear like honey, filling him, making him shiver under the large body pressing him tight to the floor.

“Fuck…” he managed to say, then the pressure was gone.

“A round of applause for my assistant, please.” Steve called out, his voice a little lower in cadence than before. Bucky got to his feet and did  _ not  _ stagger, well, maybe a little, and made his way back to his seat as Steve moved his presentation to caring for the weapon.

“Did I miss the part where you presented yourself to him and begged to be made his little bitch?” Natasha asked when he sat back down and he gave her a withering look. She grinned, “No, actually I did  _ not _ miss that, I saw it in technicolour right there on that stage.”

Clint’s head swung towards Bucky, and he quickly looked between him and Natasha, and Bucky gave him a ‘don’t mess with me scowl’ that he completely ignored.

“You want Steve t-” He started, then stopped speaking when Natasha leant over and whispered something directly into his ear, lips touching the shell and Bucky had never seen an angel change colour, but it must have been his lucky day. Yet Clint never finished voicing his thought, and as soon as Steve wrapped up the presentation, Bucky did not wait around. He was headed back to the room to get that wank in before dinner if it was the last thing he did.

Of all the things he could have died from over the years, blue balls had never crossed his mind.

  
  


Bucky had only just jumped out from his shower and torn through his bag looking for the lube he  _ knew _ he’d thrown in, when the door to the room opened and he bit back a growl. Steve was supposed to stay downstairs, get fawned over by the adoring crowd for at least half an hour, enough time for Bucky to take care of business. But no, he was as contrary as any angel he’d ever met. Luckily Bucky had a towel wrapped around himself for modesty sake.

“Buck?” Steve asked, his voice breathy as if he’d run up to the room.

And instead of being normal, or attempting to look like he had any semblance of his life together, Bucky just turned and stared at Steve, eyeing him from head to toe then back again, still riding the arousal from Steve’s earlier  _ demonstration. _ Steve to his credit didn’t react, just moved from one foot to the other, like he was nervous. Then Bucky’s eyes found Steve’s lips, bitten red, and his brain stopped computing.

“Do you remember the kiss?” Bucky found himself asking and tried to hide the expression of disbelief he knew flashed over his face. Why was he asking that? Bucky was supposed to ask if Steve liked to take control, and if so, would he do the honours.

“Oh,” Steve whispered, then suddenly his face relaxed and it was like Bucky was staring at a completely different angel, unguarded, eyes alight with something radiant. His brain may have been fried, but he was certain Steve’s expression meant that he  _ too _ had been thinking about screwing Bucky, it made sense. “Of course I remember, Bucky. I wasn’t sure you did, and  _ if _ you did, then why… look it doesn’t matter. I was hoping you’d bring the kiss up, and I wanted to see if you’d like to -”

“- fuck.” Bucky interrupted, excited they were on the same page. He pushed aside the small part that was yelling to not to be so hasty, to not take anything off the table, and as usual Bucky went with the path of least emotion. “Yes, absolutely, I was thinking the same thing. Get it out of our system. Scratch the itch before we go our separate ways again.”

Steve stared at him for the longest time, the easy expression of a moment ago faltering and Bucky cocked his head, had he been too crude? Maybe he should have just dropped the towel instead? But Steve had said worse over the years they’d known each other. Much worse.  _ Oh... _

“Unless you don’t want to,” Bucky checked and Steve threw a hand up to stop him.  _ Okay then. _

“No I do, I want to, very much, but…” He trailed off, then shook his head as if to rid himself of an idea and Bucky was curious as to what was happening behind those blue eyes, heart ramping up at the fact Steve  _ did _ want to mess around. Bucky’s entire focus was on sex, nothing else mattered right then.

“But?” Bucky asked.

“But… nothing, how did you want to do this?” He asked gesturing at the beds then themselves, his expression cool and controlled and Bucky felt a strange pang at the loss of warmth in Steve’s eyes, but he shrugged it off. He was about to get what he’d been wanting for years upon centuries, and to be fair the no nonsense demeanor kind of did it for him.

“I was hoping you’d, you know.” He didn’t want to spell it out, but he would if push came to shove. The rough chuckle from Steve made him flinch, but not from hurt, not in the way hurt usually worked.

“I had a feeling you’d like to be controlled,” Steve stated, taking two large steps until he was directly in Bucky’s space, then grasped his chin tightly, moving Bucky's head side to side as if checking him over for defects. “That you’d like to be  _ taken. _ ”

Bucky let out the smallest unintentional whimper, and the grin Steve gave him in response was feral, laced in knowledge, like he knew exactly the kind of demon Bucky was. He was in hell’s equivalent of heaven.

Steve had switched from being his usual accommodating self, with quick smiles and a teasing glint, to something darker, more thrilling, and the snap of change in his manner was enough to make Bucky's knees weak.

"What do you want?" Steve asked, lips a touch away from Bucky's, the grip on his chin almost too much now. Not the pain, but the knowledge he could do anything to Bucky and he'd take it. 

"You." Bucky rasped between dry lips, licking them, Steve’s eyes’ following the movement with heat.

"Me?" Steve's other hand slid down the front of Bucky, tracing lightly over his naked chest, slowly, pinching a nipple on it’s way through as he moved lower, making Bucky wriggle and gasp out at the sensation. He wanted so much more. Then Steve’s hand brushed over Bucky's straining dick, tenting the towel obscenely. "And  _ where _ exactly do you want me?"

Bucky's eyes fluttered closed. The asshole was going to make him say it out loud, ask for it, maybe even beg for it. He shouldn't be feeling all floaty, ready to drop to his knees and obey after only a few seconds. But he was.

"Buck? Answer when I ask you a question. You want to be a good demon for me, don’t you?"

"Shit…" he gathered his thoughts as they splintered around him, Steve was staring into his eyes, searching for something. Consent? No, he had that, hang on, an answer. A real one. "I want you. Inside of me, I want you to pin me down and take me. I want you to… fuck, Steve, I want you to  _ own _ me."

Steve let out the smallest growl, then lips smashed into Bucky's, demanding, rough and taking complete control. It was the polar opposite to the drunken kiss shared years earlier, that one, soft, tentative, exploratory and downright chaste. Bucky had the sense of mind to open his jaw, let Steve in, let Steve’s tongue snake between his teeth, filling his mouth full, so much so Bucky had to breathe through his nose at the sheer  _ amount  _ of Steve pressed into him. Steve’s hand curled around the back of his neck, fingers carding in the hair at the base for less than a moment, before he grabbed a handful, yanking Bucky’s head, dislodging their mouths as Steve’s lips latched onto his neck. The moan Bucky let out into the room was embarrassing as Steve sucked hard and sharp, using his teeth. And Bucky discovered something about himself in that moment - he was a needy whore when it came to Steve Rogers.

“Steve,” he rasped as Steve pulled back, the angel’s name on his lips sounding too close to a prayer.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed as he nipped lower, starting to nuzzle at Bucky’s collarbone. Bucky was probably going to come against the towel at the rate he was going, and housekeeping had already changed the linens that day. He didn’t want a manky towel for his morning shower, though he reasoned he could just use Steve’s.

Then Steve attacked the skin of his chest, lips and teeth leaving a blazing trail of heat and pain, while his hands gripped Bucky's arms tightly so he couldn’t move, hard enough to leave marks he hoped.

Through a haze of lust, Bucky tried to speak, “I want -”

“- I know what you want.” Steve snapped, cutting Bucky off, but the soft press of lips and touch of tongue at the juncture of Bucky’s neck took some of the harshness out of his initial words. The ones that followed in a completely different tone, almost soft, “let me take care of you tonight.”

Bucky had never melted under the hands or words of a lover before, and he was desperately trying not to with Steve, he didn’t need to set up an unobtainable bar to reach for future dalliances. He couldn’t have Steve be the only one to play him like a harp, take him to pieces with only a kiss and a few stern words. Because that’s what was happening. So when Steve ripped his shirt over his head by the scruff, then tore the towel from Bucky’s body a second later, fabric falling to the floor in a heap, he realised stupidly that Steve had already eclipsed all other partners he’d shared his body with. 

It should have stopped him cold.

Instead, Bucky devoured all the golden skin on display, wondering if he’d ever see Steve in his celestial form, if Steve would ever want to see Bucky's demon form, and the very idea jarred him. It was the most intimate thing to share with a partner, so why was he thinking about sharing that with Steve? A one night stand? But Bucky's brain going off on a tangent of future happenings that wouldn't eventuate didn’t matter right then, as he brought his attention back to Steve standing before him, half naked, eyes hooded and a command on his lips.

“Turn around and face the window,” Steve demanded, and pushed Bucky’s shoulder, making him spin quickly, not even waiting for him to comply before taking over. Bucky was surprised his dick didn’t hit the window with a crack, he flushed and bit his lip, trying to keep his moans to a minimum. It wouldn’t do Steve’s ego any favours to know how much Bucky wanted this, how much it was getting to him.

"Hands up flat on the glass, and spread your legs." 

Bucky didn't hesitate, doing as Steve bid, body trembling in anticipation. Steve didn't touch him though and Bucky stood there, watching people, small forms walking around, heading to the beach from his vantage point fourteen floors up. But still no fingers traced his skin, and he went to look over his shoulder when a hand to the back of his head stopped him, keeping his eyes forward, unable to move. With a shaky exhale he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass.

"Keep your eyes to the front." Steve ordered, then his hand was gone and Bucky was naked, vulnerable and so fucking horny he was almost ready to come untouched. And the way Steve was acting, Bucky was wondering if that might be the case. What was he doing back there? Watching Bucky up against the window in the waning sunlight, waiting to pounce, to rip him asunder?

Then suddenly his ass cheeks were pulled apart so wide he gasped at the stretch and shock of touch, but before he got used to the chill air on his exposed hole, Steve licked directly over the ring of tight muscle. Bucky jerked forward, a long wounded noise leaving his throat and he grappled at the cool surface before him, unable to find purchase as Steve licked back the other way, teasing with a flick of his tongue. And the bastard had put him in this position on purpose, Bucky unable to grip anything, instead splaying his fingers on the window, the soft squeak as he moved his hand across it loud in the room, until Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky's front, yanking him back onto his exploring tongue and hot mouth. Then it was all Steve's groans filling the space, his filthy suckling noises, the wet slurps before he dove back in like Bucky's ass was a meal. The noise of it, in conjunction with Bucky's wrecked moans and hand slapping on the window every so often as Steve's tongue managed to push deeper and deeper with each pass made Bucky's knees shake. He would have tumbled to the ground if it weren’t for Steve’s arm holding him upright. And Bucky was not a light body, Steve’s strength had his stomach fluttering.

"You taste divine. Such a sweet tang, I could eat you all day." Steve’s voice came from behind him, husky and slow, reverent.

Bucky's head thumped against the window as he listened to Steve praise his ass. His breathing coming in pants, heartbeat racing in his chest and he almost felt his wings making themselves known, and quickly pulled them back, the idea of Steve seeing them, not abhorrent like he'd assumed, but it wasn't the time. Not when Steve's tongue danced around his rim, opening him up, pushing a wet finger in alongside, pumping slowly, and all wing related conversations died, along with his inhibitions.

Bucky began to beg for more, not proud of himself, feeling a small modicum of shame at his position when Steve chuckled, until the angel kissed his hole sweetly and told him not to be embarrassed, that he was the 'perfect demon' and it soothed him immediately. He was a slut for praise. For Steve.

Sweat beaded on Bucky's forehead as Steve, who'd clearly found Bucky's elusive lube, pulsed three fingers deeply into him, he was loose and wet and ready to be fucked by Steve. Had been for more years than he liked to admit. 

Then he found himself pressed hard against the glass, his dick trapped as Steve grabbed it and positioned it so he pushed against the cool window, and Bucky had a moment to wonder if anyone who looked up could see them, and he honestly didn’t give a fuck, he would happily scream the hotel down and have everyone know that Steve was taking him.

But then Steve was there, cock lining up, pulsing in, his hole widening at the welcome intrusion, the muscle straining at the size difference from Steve’s fat fingers, and the burn was everything Bucky craved and more, and he hoped Steve might take him unprepared with extra lube one day, knowing his proclivity for pain would make it sweeter.  _ Next time? _

Then all thoughts fled when Steve slammed in, a juxtaposition to how careful his first thrust was, next to throwing that care to the wind to impale him, deeply, harshly, perfectly.

Bucky cried out, trying to widen his legs for a better angle, and Steve’s teeth found his neck and bit down, not drawing blood, but a swell of red would have bloomed and the fact Steve marked him, claimed him, made another small whimper fall from his mouth. Bucky was mortified to find he was stumbling over Steve’s name, saying it like a mantra.

Steve’s thrusts started short and hard, before the drag of his cock slowed until he was deep inside of Bucky, grinding on his ass, then pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in. There was no pattern to it, nothing Bucky could anticipate, it was chaotic and exactly what he wanted.

Sweat left streaks across the window before him as the last of the sun’s rays disappeared, taking the warmth with it and he could now see their reflection, Steve staring at where their bodies were joined with a rapt expression on his face. His hands were pulling Bucky’s cheeks apart to see better, mouthing words Bucky couldn’t hear over his own gasps of pleasure. And Bucky suddenly needed Steve to feel just as good, wanting him to enjoy this coupling, so he angled his back, clenching down and watched, pleased when Steve's cheek twitched as he gritted his teeth, eyes falling shut in concentration, as if to stop himself coming. He stumbled in his movements a second.

“You playing with me Buck?” he asked roughly. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Bucky shivered, and looked up to find Steve staring directly back at him, one of his hands coming around to grip his neck, fingers biting in, and the other to pull at Bucky’s dick, hard and without lube.  _ Oh fuck. _

He came in seconds, embarrassingly so, adoring the chuckle Steve let out and the ‘you’re such a good demon for me’ breathed between his lips as he pummeled into Bucky. The hand tightening around his neck, digging into the skin, leaving more marks as his limp body slapped into the window with force. Bucky might just come again before Steve was finished with him.

Steve’s pace then turned relentless as he fucked into Bucky’s loose hole, whispering words of filth directly into his ear, biting his lobe, issuing promises for next time, each and every one sending a thrill up his spine. He wanted a next time. Desperately.

Soon Steve’s hips began to shudder, his voice raspy from hissing commands to Bucky, and Steve came, gloriously deep inside of him. He could feel the warmth spraying him, glad that as celestial beings they didn’t have to worry about protection, masking the feeling of skin on skin. Steve finally finished pulsing and twitching, his forehead falling forward to rest between Bucky’s shoulder blades, feeling the short breaths puff over the line of his back. Bucky was only upright from Steve’s grip around him, his face smooshed up against the window, lines of spit and sweat staining the glass, marring the pristine view. It was the hottest sex he’d ever had and he didn’t think it was because Steve was an angel. He was pretty certain it was because Steve was… Steve.

“Steve,” Bucky said quietly, unusually for him.

Steve hummed in return, then yanked Bucky backwards until they landed on the bed, Steve underneath Bucky, still sheathed inside of him, still hard. And Bucky wondered if angels had a sexual mojo he wasn’t aware of. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t thrilled by the fact Steve was plugging him up, holding his release in Bucky, not allowing it to escape.

“This okay? I can move if you want?” Steve asked quietly, almost politely, and started to pull out and Bucky slapped his hand down on Steve’s side, holding him in place, nails digging in until he heard a pleased gasp from Steve.

“S’fine,” he mumbled back, “stay.”

Steve let out a small surprised huff, and Bucky was rolled to his side, Steve still deep in him. It was fucking magical. He hoped Steve would start pumping into him again, even if he were asleep, the idea of it making him smile and he wanted to give permission, but he was so tired and found himself drifting, enjoying the pleased feeling low in his gut at being so full. Full of Steve.

As Bucky drifted to sleep, trying to ignore the way Steve pulled him in tight against his body, arms over his chest like a cross, like he never wanted to let go, Bucky realised that his desire to sleep with Steve wasn’t out of his system, not at all. And when a featherlight kiss landed on the back of his neck, Bucky inhaled raggedly. In fact he was certain he was addicted.  _ Aw, hell. _

  
  
  


Steve did in fact fuck him another three times over the course of the night, they’d missed dinner and instead ordered up room service, that went cold, but was eaten around four in the morning. Both of them exhausted but smiling, touching each other without shame, teasing and of course a cloud of trepidation hung over Bucky on what they were  _ actually _ doing the entire time. He may have misunderstood just how connected he’d feel to Steve, and sleeping with him,  _ all night _ , had done nothing but make him more aware that the angel was one of the most significant beings he’d ever met. By five in the morning and completely pummelled, Bucky pushed it aside in favour of sleep.

But when he woke up early, hoping to take Steve in his mouth again, suck him until he bowed up off the bed and drowned Bucky in his come, he was surprised to find he was alone.

The other side of the bed, cool to the touch, Steve had been gone for some time. Bucky tried to name the feeling that sat low in his gut as it clenched, and maybe the dinner the night before wasn’t sitting too well. He sprawled out on his back and enjoyed the residual hurt deep in his ass, a hurt that would be soon gone. It was one of the reasons he adored sex on earth - in hell, the sensations were muted, not as strong, didn’t last as long, but pain was relative and Bucky relished in it. Although there  _ was _ a part of him that enjoyed slow and sensual, but that’s not what the night before was about. It was pure sex, want and a push and pull for take and give. Bucky taking everything Steve gave, that he rained down on him - and more. 

Once again, Bucky found himself in a ridiculous daydream of moving to earth, to find someone to make him hurt all over again, thoroughly ripping him into pieces, just the way he craved - ignoring the voice that piped up saying he’d already met that person. He figured he could set up a base, see if Steve wanted to…

No.

But why?

Because Bucky wasn’t interested in something more. Never had been. With  _ anyone _ .

So Bucky organised himself and headed down for breakfast, and for the first time in his long life felt a modicum of trepidation at seeing Steve, his nemesis, the most annoying angel ever and his mind-blowing one night stand.

But he needn’t worry about an awkward interaction, as he found Steve sitting with Clint, Natasha and Maria and he glanced up, smiling warmly at Bucky before looking back to Clint and continuing his conversation. Well, that was… pleasant.

He didn’t want pleasant, he wanted Steve to notice him, to not be able to take his eyes off him, to tell everyone at the table he had business to take care of and drag Bucky back to bed and screw him all day. Oh shit, he was in real trouble.

“Morning all,” he said gruffly instead, his voice hoarse from screaming most of the night and he saw the smallest quirk to Steve’s lips. Bastard, he knew  _ exactly _ why he was husky.

“Did you have a good night? We missed you two at dinner.” Natasha said with a viper smile on her lips, he grabbed a coffee from a passing server and with a smile of thanks (because he was  _ not _ a dick to people who worked hard) and sat down. Directly next to Steve.

“Yeah I crashed early, still trying to get used to the earth's atmosphere, it’s really fresh here, lacks sulphur.” He noticed out the corner of his eye Steve stiffen up.

“Oh really?” Natasha drawled and he immediately knew he’d been caught out in something. Satan damn it. “Steve was just telling us how you were up most of the night playing Monopoly and lost track of time.”

Raising a brow, he glanced at Steve, whose ear tips had turned pink before proceeding to shove a piece of toast in his mouth so as not to say anything. Chicken.

“Yeah we did that too.” He added, taking a large sip, and never in his life had coffee from a pot being carried around the room been as piping hot. He spluttered as Natasha sat back in her chair, green eyes honed in on him and there was no escape, no lying. She knew. Had probably heard him screaming for mercy at two in the morning when Steve had strapped his hands to the headboard and pounded into his ass hard enough they may or may not have broken a leg off the bed. They were still figuring out how to charge the damage back to their departments.

“I thought you hated Mono -”

“- so teams for today, have they been announced yet?” Bucky interrupted Natasha in the nick of time. Monopoly was one of hells more ingenious board games and he hated it with a passion. “Because I’m going to cream you, Rogers”

“I’m pretty sure Steve did the creaming last night,” he heard Natasha whisper beneath her breath and he kicked out under the table, his foot landing on Clint’s shin not hers, and the cherub yelled out in surprise, could anything go right that day?

“Actually they have. This is our team, so far, plus Sam.”

“What? But I always beat you. I can’t be on the same team as you!” Bucky, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be ignoring Steve, looked at him directly. And it was like looking into the sun. So  _ that _ hadn’t changed after sex.

“You do  _ not _ always beat me. And I have a feeling Fury and Pierce did it on purpose. I mean we are a little competitive…”

“Pfft,” Bucky hissed through his lips, noticing the way Steve’s eyes dropped to them quickly, before he glanced away. Bucky was confused at the thrill that small movement set in his gut.

They sat, talking strategy for a while, Sam joining them looking dishevelled and Bucky wondered if he too had been fucked into a mattress somewhere in the hotel. It sure looked like it.

And when the bell went off and the announcement was made that the games were beginning, they all got up and headed for the large common grassed area, Bucky feeling the buzz of competition riding him, but before he stepped out onto the greenery, a hand on his arm halted him. He looked up into warm blue eyes, and felt the edge of something more dangerous than losing the days festivities hold him captive.

“You okay today? I mean, sorry I should have waited this morning, but Clint came past and it’s not like I could tell him what we’d done. No point creating unnecessary drama over one night... right?”

The almost hesitant question at the end of Steve’s words, lost in the roil of his stomach, and Bucky glanced at Natasha, Clint and the others as they walked across the lawn, seeing the way she leaned into the cherub and he felt a stab of something unsettling hit him.

“One night…” he echoed without realising it.

“Yeah, Buck - that’s what you said you wanted, isn’t it?”

Bucky didn’t look at Steve, didn’t want to see the expression on his face, see what the small question in his voice meant. Bucky was stumbling over skittling rocks, he was a demon who had found his greatest weakness. And it wasn’t anything he’d expected.

Instead he kept his eyes forward and shrugged, “Yep, that’s what I said wasn’t it?”

He heard a soft hiss of air escape Steve, but Bucky was now on a mission, one to swallow down any unusual feelings that may have crept up on him without his knowledge. Bucky was better than this. No entanglements, not ever. That was his motto.

And as they walked together towards the others, Bucky tried not to think about how his motto was outdated and might not hold true anymore.

  
  


The issue with Bucky’s inner monologue on not getting attached to the angel was the fact he was  _ already  _ too attached. Every glance, every touch they shared during the competition only intensified the fact he’d adamantly said he wouldn’t sleep with Steve again. When in fact his entire body, mind and soul screamed out for him and Steve to do  _ just _ that. To have Steve take him, control him, order him when he could finally come, or when he couldn’t. 

He was more screwed than the time he’d accidently let loose the thousands of possessed toys into Satan’s throne room. His peers thought it hilarious, entertaining, but ultimately the delegation from heaven were not impressed. Apparently possession was frowned upon by higher celestials. Who knew.

Bucky had been demoted to the archives for two hundred years for that indiscretion. He shuddered at the memory, the archives were not his idea of a good time, essentially it was hell's complaints department, consisting of millions of souls lined up all the way to the horizon. It was where you were directed by management to find loopholes in your contract - of which you’d never find. It was a never ending relentless -

“- eyes up, Buck.” Steve yelled as he came running towards him, a large egg balancing precariously on a comically huge and bending spoon, the egg at least ostrich in size.

Bucky waited until Steve had stepped over the line and he carefully grabbed it from Steve and was off, running towards Maria, who was yelling with an impressive set of lungs from the other end of the field. He stole a glance at his competition, he was only just in front of an angel called Jessica and could see the other fifteen or so teams had fallen back a little, two had dropped eggs and were disqualified from the race. But they were going to have to watch Luke’s team. Luke Cage was the gatekeeper of hell, and was good at his job, so good he’d been doing it for as long as Bucky could remember, and that was a  _ long _ time. He also hated to lose. Luke and Bucky had that in common.

As Bucky passed the egg and spoon to Maria, she was off, and he gave a slight head nod to Luke standing a few feet away, who raised his head back, giving him a toothy grin. The competition was on.

While Maria grappled with passing the paraphanalia to Natasha, Bucky couldn’t help but think back on the games of years gone past. When the new administration came in and took over the committee, consisting of four angels, four demons and two purgatory representatives, things had changed. Gone were the days of throwing spears at each other, wrestling the mighty beasts of heaven and hell and seeing who could last the longest on the rack without popping your spine in seven places (also not pleasant) now it followed a more corporate line. All the way. The kids games modelled from earth actually more fun than Bucky wanted to admit.

Their team had already won the ski challenge, where all six of them had their feet strapped to large wooden planks and had to run together across the field. Bucky surprised they'd won as Steve positioned himself snug up behind him, hands splayed over his hips and Bucky faltered until Steve pinched his hip hard and hissed that he could do better. 

He could, and he did.

On the next challenge, Luke's angel counterpart, Frank helped obliterate them in the tug’o’war, they weren't shocked in the slightest but Bucky and Steve vowed to beat them at the next race. Seemed they still had the competitive edge even when working together, and Bucky reveled in it. Having Steve by his side, fighting alongside him was actually more fun than standing against him.

"Bucky?" Sam asked, holding out a length of rope towards him, getting ready for the three legged race, which snapped him from his thoughts. His treacherous mind was trying to trick him into liking Steve. Liking him  _ more. _

"I've got Buck," Steve interjected before Bucky could respond to Sam, who just shrugged holding out his hands and with a ‘that’s cool man,’ turned to Maria, dropping to the ground to tie their legs together.

And it wasn't until Steve bent down in a crouch at his feet, rope in hand as he skillfully tied them together, that Bucky realised what was happening. He was tethered to Steve, literally. And of course Steve's tying skills would be exemplary, Bucky wasn't going anywhere, and he couldn't help wonder if Steve's knot work translated to the bedroom.

Bucky must have made a small noise, because Steve looked up through his lashes, pinning him in place, reaching out and securing the rope while holding Bucky's gaze, flicking his wrist to tighten more, yanking Bucky forward with the force. With a large unintentional twitch to his dick, Bucky averted his attention quickly. There was no way he could watch Steve in that position, on his knees and not get hard, especially as Steve had been in that  _ exact  _ spot a few hours earlier, sucking Bucky down, all the way to the base until he came down Steve's throat. Steve had swallowed every last drop, eyes shut in ecstacy, content and licking his lips. Seemingly enthralled at the taste of Bucky. One night only hey...

"Fuck," he breathed.

Steve's expression too knowing, and Bucky exhaled through his teeth, they had to get through this race, then he wouldn't be plastered against Steve and he could breathe again. Go wank in the bathroom or something to take the edge off. Yet, he'd had his edge taken off seven times over the course of the previous night by Steve, he couldn't be any more  _ off _ edge. For Satan's sake, Steve looked delicious on his knees.

Then they were on their feet, and it hit Bucky between his hidden horns how close they  _ actually _ had to be for this race. Having their legs bound was all well and good, but in turn that meant their sides were plastered together and the only way to move was to either hold hands or place an arm around each other's backs. Bucky wasn't sure what was the better alternative. But he didn't get a chance to work out what he wanted, because Steve took control, placing a large arm around him - and didn't that fuck with Bucky - as he’d just  _ let _ him, didn't question it and he saw Natasha look at him askance. So he winked at her, then grabbed Steve back, his fingers digging into the blondes side.

Steve looked at him quickly, eyes dilated and when they flicked to Bucky’s mouth before capturing his gaze again, Bucky’s brain liquified and slunk out of his head. An angel of the Lord had no right to be staring at a demon like that, like he wanted to do bad things to them. Terrible, wonderful things, things that they’d barely touched on the night before, and when a hand slapped him on the back and Sam’s grin came into focus, Bucky shook the thoughts from his mind.

“Ready,” Sam asked and Bucky nodded back.

“Watch your six, Steve,” Luke called over to them with a cheeky grin, and Steve was quick to the draw.

“Bucks got my six, don’t worry - I’ll polish the trophy every night and take a picture and send it to you.”

“Does this constitute as shit talking your opponent?” Bucky hissed out the corner of his mouth, “because it’s pretty woeful if it is.”

Steve shrugged, eyes gleaming and somehow he tucked Bucky further under his arm so he was closer, and a waft of scent, all Steve smacked into him. It was warm, cozy, inviting and smelt of sunshine and freshly cut grass, and entwined with Bucky’s deep woodsy smokey flavour it was bliss. When he heard a small chuckle, Bucky realised he’d started to drift closer to Steve, his nose only an inch away from his neck.

“Barnes? You going to be  _ good _ and win this race with me?”

Oh the big shit, he was playing with Bucky, pushing buttons, and Bucky did not hate it at all.

“For you, Stevie,” he leant up to whisper in Steve’s ear, noticing the way Steve’s breath came in quicker at the over familiar nickname, “I’ll be the best demon in  _ all _ the worlds. So what’s my prize if we win?”

And he had a moment to relish in the floored expression on Steve’s face, the slight tremor in his cheek as he attempted to respond, but then they were having to line up, Steve’s grip around his waist tight and unrelenting. Bucky, shouldn’t have teased Steve, they’d both agreed to one night, but he was a demon after all, what was a little backtracking on a deal? What was a little white lie during an agreement? He watched as Maria and Sam lined up to go first, Natasha and Clint down the other end (thankfully, her intense green gaze somehow uncomfortable) with Steve and Bucky bringing up the last leg.

The starter’s pistol went off, and the screams of the teams around them filled the space, and that’s when Steve leaned down, lips pressing against Bucky’s ear and he couldn’t stop the small shiver that undid any good work he thought he’d laid the groundwork for.

Using the cover of noise from the rest of the angels and demons, Steve husked, “you can have  _ anything _ you want. You just have to  _ beg _ for it.” 

And Bucky’s knees gave out.

Steve held him fast and the deep laugh should not have made Bucky want to curl up in it and make a home, Steve shouldn’t make him feel like that at all. He was a fucking demon, not a flowerey namby-pamby looking for love. Sure, demons found love all the time, but not Bucky, he’d never found anyone he wanted to spend eternity with, no one that challenged him, took an interest in him, made him want to be a better demon, someone who  _ saw _ him.

Steve tugged him forward to the line, and Bucky sucked in a deep breath, feeling the world tilt to the side. Oh no.

No, no, no.

He didn’t, he couldn’t. There was no way Bucky actually  _ liked _ Steve, in a way that meant dating, did he? Getting closer, learning about each other and their likes and dislikes, navigating a relationship across heaven and hell. It would be a long distance relationship of the ages, and yet… Bucky didn’t discard the notion immediately as he’d done in the past. It began to fester, to dig in under his skin, his second more scaly skin. But before he blurted something stupid, like feelings, Natasha and Clint were on them, both laughing loud and hard, wheezing, falling into a pile and Bucky had never seen her so unguarded and suddenly he felt vindicated. It was alright to feel these things, to  _ want  _ things for himself.

Then they were off, Luke and Frank next to them, and Steve and Bucky started to fall behind. But they couldn’t. Bucky wouldn’t get his reward if they lost, and with a burst of speed and determination, he and Steve took off, working in complete sync, not mistepping once. He heard Luke bellow as he and Frank tried to catch them, and somehow their arms fused around the other, sprinting together like they’d been joined for years. Steve and Bucky took the ribbon, and falling down on their backs next to each other laughing and panting, Bucky looked over to find Steve already staring at him fondly, happily, before he blinked once, then turned to stare up at the blue sky. Yet Bucky didn’t look away, just stared, drinking in the sight of Steve laying beside him.

He knew immediately what he’d be begging for as a prize that night.

  
  


Dinner was a raucous affair. Their team took out the bowls trophy from Darren Sharpe circa 1953, and it sat in the middle of their table as they celebrated harder and louder than they needed to. The rest of their events, close calls with Luke’s team, but during the wheelbarrow race they’d pulled ahead. Clint was a gun with his arms, something he could see Natasha appreciated. But it was a fun day, bright and loud, and Natasha, Sam and he didn’t experience enough of these days back underground. Goofing off for the hell of it.

“Congrats everyone, we slaughtered our opponents today,” Bucky said as he cheersed the group.

“No, Buck. We triumphed over adversity,” Steve amended.

Deadpan, Bucky looked at him, “That's what I said, slaughtered.”

He didn’t miss the quirk of a smile on Steve’s lips as Natasha started to call for the group to do shots. It was a nice feeling, like they had a connection, a friendship.

Luke had come past earlier, slapping Steve on the back, congratulating the team and using his finger guns on Bucky to say he’d see him on Monday at work. Bucky was currently doing a rotation with the hounds on the front gate, trying to give the impression that hell was a scarier place than it was.

Steve stiffened a little at Luke’s words and Bucky frowned at him across the table, but Steve didn’t speak or elaborate, just refilled their glasses from the wine bottle left in the middle of the table, and didn’t meet Bucky’s questioning gaze. What was the issue about Bucky going back to work? Then he realised, it was the next day, it was their last night at the conference, and Bucky probably wouldn’t be seeing Steve again until the next gathering in a century. And although time passed differently in heaven and hell, a century was still a significant amount of time, unless he asked to see Steve in between. 

He pushed the idea to the back of his mind. There was no point mulling over something so ridiculous, not when there was no hint it was anything more than sex. Bucky would hopefully get one more night with Steve and then cross his fingers the next century they’d pick up where they left off and get physical again. Then he’d see if his crazy notion of dating would be worth exploring.

But for the rest of the night, Bucky couldn’t shrug off the feeling of malcontent. It sat with him during their celebrations, the unshakable feeling of future regret deep inside.

When he finally begged off for the night, he found Steve following him to the elevators and he glanced over his shoulder, back at him, catching Steve’s gaze on his ass. Bucky heated to the core immediately.

“You don’t have to leave, unless you’ve lost your room key,” Bucky mentioned, hoping it wouldn’t deter Steve from following him into the elevator. He had to at least act indifferent, play his part.

Steve chuckled, “no, Buck, I have my key. There’s something else in the room I want.”

“Minibar?” Bucky tried to joke as the doors opened and they stepped inside.

“ _ Not _ the minibar.” Steve said low and dangerous, crowding Bucky as soon as the doors slid shut. “Although what I want isn’t currently in the room.” Steve leant forward then stopped an inch away, “Can I?”

Bucky nodded, mouth dry at the sheer want in Steve’s eyes as he pushed himself against Bucky, slamming his back into the elevator wall. Steve’s lips devoured his; tongue delving into his mouth, wet, hot and with promise. Bucky moaned into it, letting himself float off with the feeling of being desired, that Steve had chosen him this century to play with, to have.

All too soon Steve was dragging him towards their room, the door flinging open with a crash and before Bucky could turn towards him, Steve’s fingers were grasping the fabric of Bucky’s shirt and it was gone, his pants following less than a second later and Bucky was naked, hard and quaking inside. But instead of Steve attacking him as he’d done countless times the night before, he began to pepper kisses across Bucky’s naked shoulders instead.

These kisses turned into small licks and presses of lips, soft, exploratory and they didn’t cease, they didn’t get demanding, they just… were.

Bucky closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of someone, of Steve lavishing attention on his skin, and Steve didn’t leave an inch untouched, if his lips had been there, then his fingertips brushed over the same area soon after, eliciting shivers and small punched out groans from Bucky. Words of more, of please escaped through his lips and Bucky was once again unsurprised to find himself begging Steve. For what, he didn’t know, he just wanted. Desperately.

By the time Steve took his dick in mouth, Bucky’s hands were tangled in Steve’s hair, falling apart at the seams, as Steve licked and sucked until Bucky thought he’d pass out from sheer sensation.

“Wanted to do this all day,” Steve husked out and engulfed him again, a finger teasing between Bucky’s legs, seeking to press against his hole. Bucky revelled in the words; finding out Steve had been thinking of him in that way during the day, especially after they’d confirmed it was only one night, made him wonder how far he could push this thing between them.

Bucky came with a surprised cry when Steve breached him with two fingers pulsing in and out of his ass, dick twitching in the wet warmth. Steve’s eyes were closed, a grin on his lips as he cleaned up the mess Bucky had made, tongue darting out to capture a small droplet that had escaped his mouth, and Bucky groaned at the sight before him. He was gone, he was losing every reason he’d dreamt up on why Steve and he were a bad idea.

“I want you to fuck me - wings exposed,” Bucky blurted, then tried to immediately swallow the words back down, but he couldn’t, they were out there and huge blue eyes were trained in on him. The shock in them clear, and Bucky groaned, running a hand over his eyes, pressing tightly until he could only see bright white. It was too much to ask, he knew it. Thankfully he’d not asked to share their true forms. Though this was almost just as an intimate ask.

“Is that what you truly want?” Steve asked, voice steady, sure, not hesitant. It was not the outright rejection he’d expected Steve to voice.

He nodded quickly, still not quite courageous enough to drop his hands and meet Steve’s gaze. How was he a demon? He was a damn chicken, a farm animal that lived on earth that couldn’t converse.

“Bucky look at me.”

_ Fuck. _

Bucky did, and was assaulted with a view so spectacular he almost gasped, in fact the small noise that escaped his throat would have been classed as one. Steve had ripped his shirt off and as he knelt before Bucky, his wings were exposed, they were bright, ethereal and utterly  _ glorious. _

He didn’t hesitate, and with a rustle, Bucky let his own in from the ether.

Steve’s face went slack as his eyes devoured every inch of Bucky’s dark grey and red wings, his gaze glassy and filled with astonishment.

“Bucky, you’re... I mean you’ve always been stunning, but your wings are breathtaking. They  _ are _ you, this is who you are to your core, you’re beautiful.”

And Bucky yanked Steve up off the floor to kiss him, to mask what his words had done to him, what they’d ripped from his damaged demon soul. He couldn’t take too much kindness, it would kill him, make him question his very way of life, his life in hell, a place Steve was not.

Steve prepared him well, all while his eyes and hands continuously touched Bucky’s wings, digging into the soft downy feathers as if he’d never seen or felt another demon’s before, like he was mesmerized by them to such a degree he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Couldn’t fathom he was the one Bucky shared this with, and Bucky not knowing what was going on behind Steve’s wide blue gaze, took liberties and returned the favour. Sliding his fingers through the softness of Steve’s, grasping handfuls and smoothing feathers down, eyes drawn to the goodness, the sheen glowing from within them.

Bucky, for all his mountains of experience, had never made love with anyone with his wings exposed. This was all new territory, and it scared the demon within until he didn’t recognise himself.

Steve eventually pulled him gently to the bed and sat on the edge, Bucky straddling his lap, the best way to position themselves to accommodate the sheer girth and size of their wings. Steve leant back on his hands, giving control to Bucky and he just about faltered, before holding himself over Steve’s hardness then slid down, inch by wonderful inch. When he was snug, he sat a moment, squirming until Steve was deeper, pressing into him, filling him.

Bucky placed his hands on Steve’s chest to steady himself, then began to slowly ride him, the weight of his wings creating a leverage so when he slid down, the force was magnified and judging by Steve’s expression, it felt just as good for him as it did Bucky. Sex had never been so intense.

Steve’s eyes held Bucky's captive, the depth fathomless and Bucky swore he saw the ocean in the blue, waves washing away his trepidation, smashing against his fears, holding him in their embrace. Every so often they would flick to Bucky’s wings as Bucky did the same to Steve’s, like they were drawn to that which made them different, yet the same. Their colours complementary, striking, and leaving them both breathless.

Steve soon grew impatient at Bucky’s slow torturous pace, and placed a hand on Bucky’s hip, fingers digging into the flesh and he started to fuck up into Bucky, his other hand wrapped around Bucky’s dick pumping hard.

It was perfect, everything about it, the burn in his thighs, the roughness of Steve’s strokes, the fullness of his ass being ruined, Steve’s pace quick and snappy, making him gulp in breaths, hanging on to Steve’s shoulders, fingers inching over to tug at Steve’s exposed feathers.

“Bucky…” Steve strangled out and he would forever deny it was the tone in Steve’s voice that tipped him over the edge, but Bucky was coming between them. Messy and pulsing his pleasure over their stomachs, the warmth dripping off them. And Steve soon tensed, following Bucky over the precipice with a shout, both hands now gripped on Bucky’s hips, holding him in place, filling him once more.

Panting, Bucky waited until Steve’s ragged gasps had smoothed out and their eyes met, and Bucky, feeling too vulnerable, pulled his wings back in. Steve frowned, a question on his lips that Bucky kissed away, and by the time he pulled back, Steve’s wings had disappeared too.

They spent time cleaning up, Bucky having a quick shower, water sluicing off him in fat rivulets, trying not to think of the future, desperate to just enjoy the now. His mind kept slipping though, and when Steve joined him, he jumped out hastily, drying himself and slid into bed, light off. He might start looking for a new job on that farm, though laying eggs might not be for him.

He’d assumed Steve would climb into his own bed broken as it were, but instead, he slipped under Bucky’s covers, snuggling up against his back, and Bucky was a weak demon and melted into the embrace, feeling a quiet exhale against his skin.

“You okay, no regrets?” Steve asked and Bucky had no idea how to answer that without sounding like a needy demon who’d caught something suspiciously like feelings. So he deflected like the only way he knew how.

“The only regret pal, is the fact you didn’t fuck me in the wheelbarrow position. Maybe next conference.”

Steve chuckled softly, something dry and almost forced in the sound. But then lips pressed on Bucky’s shoulder and before long he was dropping off to sleep, trying to ignore the fact his brain kept screaming at him to say something, to ask Steve for more.

But if there was one thing Bucky excelled at, it was stubbornness.

  
  


Bucky awoke early the next morning and stretched, his dreams fleeing in the dawn, while the memory of Steve’s warmth curled up behind him when he’d woken during the night comforting in a way another beings’ body had never been before. With images of their wings entwined vividly displayed in his mind, Bucky rolled over with a smirk to greet Steve, ask if he wanted to get a coffee downstairs. But he was shocked to discover Steve was not next to him, nor was he anywhere in the room.

“Steve?” he called out, and there was no sound from the bathroom, the light off. 

A scratchy unpleasant sensation began to crawl around in his stomach, and sitting up, he looked over to the other side of the room, seeing Steve’s bag gone, the bed made and something familiar laying on the covers, something that made Bucky gulp.

Beryl, his trusty scythe was placed carefully in the middle of the bed, no note, nothing else, and Bucky swallowed tightly again, his throat thick. The sight of his favourite blade slicing into him more than the  _ actual _ damage the physical impact of being hit with her ever could. Steve had Beryl with him, had intended on giving her back. She was  _ not _ in a garden somewhere being shat on by heavenlife. 

“Oh, shit, I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Bucky jumped up, throwing his trusty second shirt on, and boy did it stink, he’d remember to bring a third one next conference, then pulled on his jeans, toeing into his shoes, hoping to find Steve downstairs. How could the mere sight of Beryl, a fucking inanimate object (sorry Beryl) make him realise something he’d been denying for years, centuries. He liked Steve. He really  _ liked _ him, maybe even more than like. Wanted to explore something more, hear Steve laugh,  _ make _ him laugh, spend time with him and see where it could go. Give it a chance. And that scared Bucky more than anything - deciding to thwart his fears head on to take that chance - on an angel no less. On Steve.

He skidded to a halt in the foyer and as luck would have it, literally ran into Natasha and Clint, the cherub’s cheeks flushed red as he mumbled something to her, but Bucky had no time to waste.

“Stevewhereishehasheleft?”

“What?” Clint asked, looking to Natasha with a quizzical look and Bucky huffed.

“I’m not speaking in tongues or Latin - you understand English right?”

“James,” Natasha snapped at him and his eyes flicked to hers and,  _ crap _ . 

“Sorry. Clint,” he kept the sarcasm at a minimum, “Can you please tell me if Steve is still here?”

“Physically or metaphysically?”

Bucky could hear his teeth grinding, and his fingers twitched, he understood where Clint’s bandaid over the nose came from. People punching him.

Before he did something he wouldn’t regret, Natasha saved her new  _ friend's _ face, “He was out the front just before, talking to Maria. And, James, we’ll talk about this later.”

He ignored her last sing-songed words as he sprinted away to the front of the resort, seeing Maria’s tall frame immediately. He could deal with Natasha later, right now he had a grand gesture to make. Or maybe a small one, like walking up to Steve and saying ‘hey’ with a devilishly tilt to his head. 

It had worked before.

“Hill,” he called out and she spun, grin wide and welcoming, yet edged with her usual sarcastic way. He found himself mirroring her look.

“Barnes,” she replied, then flipped the bird to someone over Bucky’s shoulder, he resisted the urge to see who it was. “What do you need?”

“Steve,” and said no more. It was the Devil’s own truth. That’s what he wanted. And Bucky was kicking himself it took so long to see it.

“Gone, left about five minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, “I’ll try him later then I guess.”

“Good luck, he said he was taking on a new role, wouldn’t be reachable for a while. But I’m sure he’ll contact you when he can. You’re friends right?”

“Uh, right,” Bucky failed to mention they’d never exchanged personal details and he honestly didn’t know how to contact Steve without looking like a desperate demon on the hunt for angel ass. “Well it was good to see you again, maybe see you at the next conference? I still owe you a thrashing on billiards.”

Maria eyed him for a second, then pulled him in for a quick perfunctory hug, squeezing tight before releasing him just as rapidly. She hugged like a case of whiplash.

“That you do, later.”

Then she was off, catching up with Frank and they soon disappeared around a corner, leaving Bucky standing alone on the steps, something hard, heavy and solid making a home in the pit of his stomach. 

Bucky walked slowly back to the room he’d shared with Steve, sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers itching to grab the pillow Steve slept with, if only to inhale his scent again. But Bucky was better than that, stronger than that. After all, it appeared his two day fling with Steve was just that - a fling. Right?

Although as he tidied up, he may have accidentally fallen on the bed to reach something he could have easily walked around for, his nose coming in close contact with a certain pillow, inhaling because,  _ damn it _ , he needed to breathe. And for one glorious moment, his sense impression kicked in, savouring the slice of memory he was assaulted with. And as he shut the door behind him with a final click, heading down to the foyer and Natasha, he knew what he had to do.

He had a plan to execute. Not bad people for a change.

  
  


“Are you sure?” Natasha asked him as they sat outside Coulson's office a few weeks later.

“Not at all,” he replied with a grin. “I think I’m fucking certifible and insane, but that means I’ll end up back here anyway. So win-win, no risk hey?”

Natasha didn’t say anything, but he noticed her scoot minutely closer.

“It’s a terrible idea, you know that?”

“Yup. You’re just annoyed that after thousands of years I have a plan and you’re not a part of it.”

He’d meant to tease, but the truth of his words hit them both deep, and Bucky tucked her small frame under his arm and yanked her in close before pulling her across his body to mess her hair with his knuckles. She extracted herself in five seconds, and that’s when he knew that she wasn’t taking the news well, usually she’d have had him on the floor and been out of his grasp in two.

“It’ll be alright, I promise.”

“It better be,” she replied curtly.

“James Barnes,” Coulson's long suffering PA called out to the waiting room, and with a wink, that elicited an eye roll from Natasha, he was walking into his superiors’ dungeon, his plan in full motion.

  
  


Bucky shut his brand new apartment door with a foot, arms ladened with groceries. He’d moved in the day before, finally getting housing to suit his needs, and the fact he was a demon with clout like no other and  _ still _ couldn’t get accomodation, would be funny if it wasn’t so annoying. He placed the bag down and unpacked the food he’d purchased, and that was something he was still trying to get the hang of, having to nourish his human form on the regular. Although he was getting better at cooking, and had mastered at least four different dishes. As long as chicken was involved he could do it.

Leaving out the ingredients to make chicken jalfrezi, he stopped and really looked around, sighing deeply at the change his life had taken recently.

He’d been living in New York for two months now, initially staying with a relatively intense demon named Loki, taking up the post of The Demon of Brooklyn as soon as Coulson gave him the green light. It was a complete surprise to Bucky to find he enjoyed the work, it wasn’t anywhere near as boring or tedious as he’d imagined an earth based position to be. He’d already made a few friends with surrounding demons and angels, having been invited to a games night at Tony’s that Friday, an overbearing angel who loved gadgets, but seemed to be on the level. And if Bucky were being honest, he needed a few angels on side, especially as he was having trouble locating Steve, who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the heavenly plain.

Cutting up the chicken, he checked the recipe on his phone and saw a message from Natasha with her itinerary. She was visiting in a few days now that he had a place of his own, and was even talking about leaving the Soul Keepers employ and giving up her secure promotion to try something on earth too, though her sights were set on Russia. She and Clint had stayed in contact, and he wondered if that might have something to do with her decision. It had been his plan too, as dating an angel when living on earth was easier. 

Huffing, Bucky was once again filled with annoyance that Steve had just up and left without a trace. How was he supposed to date someone when they didn’t know that he was trying to date them? The knock on his door startled him, he didn’t know anyone in the building and only a handful of beings knew his address, so he put the stove to simmer and walked to the door, looking out the small peep hole only to see a large hamper taking up the view. Was he getting a delivery? From hell? They were not usually known for their welcome to the neighborhood gifts.

“Err, hello,” he said as he opened the door, the squeak almost drowning out his voice.

A voice from behind the hamper piped up, “Oh, hey, welcome to the building, you moved in yesterday right?”

Bucky couldn’t speak, respond at all except to let out a small noise of assent, that voice, that low cadence...

“Excellent, I live next door and wanted to welcome you properly, be neighbourly and nice. So, uh can I come in, if that’s okay - pop this down somewhere?”

“Sure,” Bucky said quickly, and watched as his unexpected guest went to place the hamper down and couldn’t help add, “typical angel, doing good deeds, I have half a mind to try and corrupt you.”

“Bucky?” Steve’s head snapped around and he dropped the hamper the last few inches, landing with a bang. 

His shocked expression turned into one of disbelief, and in two seconds he was across the room, hands cupping Bucky’s face, lips pressed against his, and Bucky relaxed, his whole body sinking towards the large blonde who held him close. Bucky didn’t understand how he’d missed this so terribly without realising it until that very second.

Too soon, Steve pulled away, face pink, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s, whispering, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Bucky teased back.

“I probably should have asked if you wanted that kiss first.”

Bucky chuckled and leant forward to show Steve it was alright, better than, kissing him soundly, their lips moving over each other in perfect sync, like they’d been kissing a lifetime.

“What are you doing here?” Steve rasped after a few minutes, just as Bucky was readying to pull Steve toward the bed that still needed to be put together. He’d kill two birds with one stone, get his bed constructed, then break it immediately being screwed through it hard. Hopefully.

“You’re currently making out with The Demon of Brooklyn.”

Steve’s laugh was all encompassing, delighted, and Bucky wanted to keep hearing it for the rest of his days, he could admit that now without baulking and running to hide behind his facade of indifference in hell, doling out punishments where it was safe.

“Well that’s an interesting turn of events, because you’re making out with the  _ Angel _ of Brooklyn.”

Bucky let out a choked splutter, “don’t tell me my grand gesture to move to earth, to be closer to heaven to date you, was eclipsed by you moving from heaven to be closer to hell, and potentially me?”

Steve’s large grin took up his entire face, and Bucky knew the stupid smile of his own mirrored Steve’s and was glad no one else was around to watch the demise of one of the most surly demons in hell. Turning into a ball of mush at the attention of one angel was not only irritating, it was embarrassing.

“You moved hell just to date me?” Steve asked quietly against Bucky’s mouth before stealing another chaste kiss, that started to turn into something not so chaste as his hands came around to cup Bucky’s ass, squeezing him. He’d missed that too.

Gasping into his mouth, Bucky found the sense to pull back for a moment, “pal, I don’t just move to earth for anyone. Hell, I’ve never  _ ever _ lived on earth - consider yourself lucky.”

“Oh, I do,” Steve smirked and before Bucky knew what was happening he was lifted up and with a small protest that dinner would get ruined, he was carried to his bedroom where Steve showed him how lucky he was in return. The bed remained in pieces. Bucky didn’t care at all.

Later as they sat on the floor of Bucky’s lounge, eating overcooked chicken, both naked and slightly dazed, Steve finished his plate, pushing it to the side and turned to him.

“What changed your mind?”

“About what?” Bucky replied cheekily, taking the last bite off his plastic fork, why they didn’t go to Steve’s fully stocked apartment next door, he didn’t know.

Steve huffed out a laugh, then gestured between them, “About me I guess. You had to have known I’d been trying to get your attention for about a thousand years or more now?”

Bucky sucked in a breath, no, he had  _ not _ known that. 

“Honestly? Things are more complicated for a demon than just happy days and love hearts, it takes us a little longer to differentiate love and lust. And longer again to do anything about it, there's a reason why we’re known more for orgy’s than settling down for eternity.”

“Love…” Steve breathed, his eyes boring into Bucky’s who just shrugged a shoulder, trying not to flush, trying not to stumble over his words, his realisations.

“I’ve been lusting after you for a long time, Steve. Then we kissed and, well, it got a little confusing, convoluted...” Bucky trailed off.

Steve waited a beat, “you didn’t come to the conference the century after. I waited for you, you didn’t show.”

“No. I did not.”

“But this century was different?”

“It was.”

Clearly taking pity on him, Steve didn’t push for more, realising that talking about his emotions, how he felt about things, what he was experiencing wasn’t Bucky’s go-to, his comfort zone, and he was grateful for the reprieve. Glad Steve understood and gave him room, room to be Bucky. It’s all he’d ever wanted in a partner.

“When we... you know…” Steve started.

“Fucked,” Bucky supplied with a smirk, liking the way Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yes, that. I thought I’d finally be able to tell you the truth, that I’d been wanting you for,” Steve stopped and laughed dryly, “well more years than I want to admit to.”

Bucky swallowed, pleased and preening a little that Steve Rogers, most revered of angels, had a crush. On him. On his stupid demon ass.

“Same. I mean, I’d wanted to sleep with you, potentially  _ date _ you for a… while.”

“So why did you back off? Make me think it was just a weekend fling?” Steve’s eyes were guileless and Bucky wanted to lie, but found he couldn’t. And for a demon, that was probably not a good sign, but thankfully he didn’t  _ have _ to lie to Steve, would never have to. Unless it was about whose turn it was to do the dishes.

“Can I just say it was due to certain feelings I didn’t want to name that smacked me between the horns. I’m not good with expressing or voicing emotions.”

Steve went quiet for a moment, then his face steeled itself and Bucky had no idea what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Well, if you can’t, I can for both of us. Bucky,” Steve waited a beat, “I’ve been in love with you for centuries.”

Bucky blinked once, “Steve, you can’t just say that.”

“And why not?”

“Because… well, because…” Bucky failed to get the words out, and instead climbed over Steve’s lap to sit on him, to stare down into his wonderfully clear blue eyes, that shone nothing but love out and Bucky was simultaneously in heaven and hell in that moment. “You brought Beryl back.”

“I did.”

“Thank you.” Bucky whispered before kissing him softly, sweetly, so different to their usual hunger, and he could tell Steve understood this was how Bucky was showing how he felt without words, and Steve’s entire frame melted into Bucky, his arms coming up to wrap around him, holding Bucky tightly. “She was the catalyst.”

Steve started to shake under him and Bucky realised after a moment it was in laughter and gave Steve a questioning look.

“I’m sorry, but you realised you had feelings for me, strong feelings, even feelings that just  _ might _ match mine, all because I left a sword on the bed?”

“She is  _ not _ a damn sword, you uncouth, harp playing, cloud herder.”

The shaking became too much and Steve collapsed backwards until Bucky was sprawled on top of him, both laughing, holding each other and it was not at all how Bucky pictured his night going. It wasn’t even in the top ten things he thought might happen to him - ever.

“And those pesky feelings, might just surpass yours.” Bucky admitted, then ducked his head, feeling his cheeks flame, but Steve stared at him like he was the most magical person in the world, kissing him soundly.

Being happy, living on earth, finding a connection strong enough to make him change his life, accepting love  _ and _ giving it, it was all a little ridiculous. Sure it wouldn’t be all roses and thorns, they were competing for work in the same Burrough, but it wouldn’t be boring, that was for sure, and they’d always loved a healthy competition. 

So with a few ground rules, that Bucky would break of course, he and Steve had everything they needed to make it work. To make them work.

And as Bucky leant down, capturing Steve’s mouth in another kiss, deepening it when a growl erupted from beneath him, showing Steve exactly how much he loved him, Bucky knew he wouldn’t have changed a thing.

After all, they were a match made on earth.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed these two idiots finding their place on earth (literally).
> 
> Next AU we have my twist on a Post-Apocalyse fic - which also turned into a bit of a monster (insert shock faced emoji here - but honestly by this point - are any of you surprised???) it's also a multi-chaptered one! 
> 
> Fingers crossed and everything going well - it should start next week!
> 
> I'm on the below if you ever want to chat about anything - I'm nice - I promise!
> 
> Tumblr -[ kalee60](https://kalee60.tumblr.com)  
> Twitter - @kalee60_


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